The Morning Donna Died
by Thea Nelson
when i looked out my window that sunday morning, the sky was blue.
when i looked out my window the front lawn was yellow
from summer’s tail end.
when i looked out my window
little old donna had an ambulance in her driveway.
her house
was cute as ever—
a well trimmed lawn, a lining of understated shrubs,
pricked with white flowers.
a tree casting shade on the birdbath,
and two lawn chairs
in front of her house’s yellow siding.
one for her, one for her son.
and then there was the stretcher, and the paramedics, and the ambulance.
can’t forget the ambulance.
donna: long time neighbour, long time stranger
the scene described is the most i ever knew of her.
ninety years of a woman’s life,
reduced to what i saw
when i looked out my window that sunday morning.
Hellfire in a Bottle
by Maya B. Weliky
You gifted me a vial of blood.
A piece of you hangs
On a
Chain
On my
Wall.
I don’t even have to ask.
Beaten, bloody, angel,
You hide your scars and offer them
To me so lovingly.
It scares me.
I watch you dying and
Can only offer simple words of comfort.
Is it God’s will that dark waters drown you
And drain into my hands?
Is it your parents’?
I’ve been gone too long but
It’s too late.
Your skin burns hidden below your sleeves.
I will keep you on my wall
And watch you burn
Until hell freezes over.
